


Truth or Dare, or A Holiday Party of Villainous Intent

by FlameBlownWhiter



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types, X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: A bit of Magic, Fandom crossover, Just thought you might like to know., Kinda, M/M, Marvel Universe, Rare Pairings, The Doombots are wearing girly santa outfits, Villains Hook Up Too, but Loki doesn't know it's weird, so he doesn't comment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameBlownWhiter/pseuds/FlameBlownWhiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Doom throws a Holiday party, Magneto starts a game of Truth or Dare, Loki get what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or Dare, or A Holiday Party of Villainous Intent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelheadedhipster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/gifts).



The heavy wood and iron doors of Latveria’s castle closed behind Loki, locking out the cold wind and snow. Loki paused to hand his fur-lined forest green leather coat to the Doombot on his right. The Doombot, wearing an atrocious red velvet outfit trimmed in fake white fur, took Loki’s coat efficiently between his metal hands and hung it up on the full rack by the door. It looked as if the party had already started.

Loki stopped outside the doorway to survey the party. From the looks of it, everyone and their minions were in attendance. For the hundredth time he wished he’d never come, but he owed Doctor Doom a favor and a villain is only as good as his word. He didn’t know whose idea this was - they were in Latveria so it might have been Doom, but he doubted it. A villainous holiday party, tastefully multireligious to accommodate all faiths - Christians, Jews, Satanists, the Occultists, the Pagans, and there was even a pole in the middle of the room for those who celebrated a holiday called “Festivus **,** ” which Doctor Octopus had attempted to explain in the e-mail chain but just sounded droll. Then again, nothing Midgardian ever held his attention for long.

Though, something in the room was beginning to hold some interest. That something was in a pair of tight midnight-blue jeans, a black pullover, and a wine-red wool overcoat that Loki desperately wanted to make disappear. Erik.

It had been ages since they’d seen each other. Loki still remembered what he smelled like. Erik smelled like two things: Cyprus.

A sharp smell.  A masculine smell.  Like fir trees, a smell that reminded him of home, of the forests of Asgaurd, of furiously trying to keep up with Thor as they hunted through the woods. During this time of year, when a tree merchant popped up on every corner, Loki often found himself thinking about Erik.

The second scent was also active, but mostly it was a huge turn-on. Leather, more specifically, a riding crop. Magneto, the master of magnetism, smelled like a riding crop.

He never told anyone what that smell did to him. It was something about the scent of leather, skin and sweat - combined - that made him instantly hard. The smell had always pulled at him, even in Asgard. The last time he’d smelled it was just over a year ago, when Erik was holding the whip. He remembered, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the way Erik’s strong hands held the slender crop.               

It had smelled like Erik.

Already hard, Loki smirked and closed his eyes. The images flickering behind his eyelids made him sweat with want and need: himself, magicking away his clothes, baring his body, dropping back against light grey sheets as Erik approached, crop in hand, ready to--- he wondered where the crop was now. He wondered if he could get Erik to use it again.

Smiling to himself, Loki walked over to where Erik was sitting on Doom’s plump blood-red leather couches. Erik was talking to Hydro or Riptide, one of the C-level water freaks. Another Doombot, this time in blue velvet and the same hideous trim, crossed in front of him with a platter of something that was green and fizzy in a strangely delicate metal and glass goblet. Immediately suspicious, Loki tasted it. It was a mix of Asgardian Ale and maybe a bit of magic - Amora’s handiwork, he guessed. Well, at least she was good for something, the concoction was delicious. He drained his glass and took another before standing in front of Riptide.

“Do you really still suffer these fools, Magneto? I would have thought you would have rid yourself of these hangers-on eons ago,” Loki said with a note of distaste. His back was to Erik, so he couldn’t see what his reaction was, but given the speed Riptide exited his chair he was sure it was favorable to him.

His hair **,** smooth and long **,** tickled the back of his neck as he sat down. His cape got in the way and, snapping his fingers, he sent it somewhere less bothersome. He knew he was putting on a show - using magic, decked in nothing but tight black, green, and silver leather, his sinewy arms completely bare after the paldron on either side; Loki hoped he was communicating his intentions rather loudly.

“Loki.”

“Erik.”

Magneto flicked his wrist and his metal goblet (courtesy of Doctor Doom; who else would own metal goblets on Midgard?) rose gently to his lips. Slowly, so slowly it had to be purposeful, Erik parted his lips and delicately drank - his eyes never leaving Loki’s.

His intentions were received and reciprocated, it seemed.

The cup floated back to its perch on the table. As soon as the cup was out of his way a slip of Erik’s pink tongue darted out to grab the last droplet of ale and continue to lick across the seam of his lips before disappearing once more into his mouth. No wonder Magneto seemed to have an endless amount of followers, Loki thought hazily, he’d follow that tongue anywhere.

He was about to when he felt a slim hand, followed by a slim forearm, slip around his shoulders. He could see bright blue and dazzling yellow from his peripheral vision.

“Mystique.” He said quietly, with a hint of disapproval. There was a reason Loki never had an entourage; he never could stand the company of lackeys.

“You boys having fun over here?” Emma Frost said in her normal icy tone as she sat next to Erik and opposite Loki. The super-sect of the the population has never been known for modesty, but the White Queen, with her corsets, and Mystique, with her lack of mystique, certainly could beat out most competition. Loki detested them.

“We were just playing a game,” Magneto drawled lazily, gifting Ms. Frost with a small smile.

“We were? And what game was that?” Loki asked with more than a little curiosity. “If you plan to play a game with me, Mr. Lehnsherr, you should be prepared to lose."

Magneto’s eyes bored into his. They were dark and serious as he leaned in, his hand curled into a loose fist, fingers purposefully bumping into Loki’s chest. Loki looked down at that hand, mystified.

“Mr. Laufeyson, weren’t you listening? I said Truth. Or. Dare.” Erik’s mouth twisted up into a playfully challenging smirk, his mouth rolling over the final syllable like far-off thunder. Loki always had a thing for thunder.

 

\+ + +

 

Several of their associates ended up joining seemingly out of nowhere. He gave Emma a sideways glance, but she just smiled back at him, completely unassuming. At the end there were six of them - Magneto, the White Queen, Mystique, Amora, the Green Goblin, and himself.

Playing truth or dare with a bunch of self-named villains and a telepath is a dangerous line to walk. No one wanted to anger anyone with a dare for fear of retribution, but everyone knew that every truth was going to be fact checked by Ms. Frost. Loki learned a lot of interesting things that night. Such as: Mystique had a crush on her foster brother; Magneto was not scared of Doom, which he proved by changing the structure of his face mask to look like a jolly cartoon Santa; Harry Osborn would rather fuck Spiderman than kill him; and Amora’s worst fear was not being loved.

Actually, they all sounded like little girls at a slumber party, the ones that Sif ritually refused to go to as a child.

Loki was bored, but at least he had something interesting to look at. Erik was young and handsome without the helmet. The first time Loki had seen him without it had been a pleasant surprise. He’d imagined someone older, with white hair and a bunch of lines. He’d pictured him more like Doom, powerful but ultimately mortal, but Magneto was practically an Aesir. He had perfect cheekbones that framed his deep grey eyes. There was something about those eyes, something that reminded Loki of himself. They were filled with things like pain, regret, and loss - true loss - the kind that came when you were the one responsible for… or, Loki thought with a smile on his lips as he watched Erik drink another draught of Asgardian Ale, he was probably drunk.

He was deep in another fantasy starring the riding crop when Amora was suddenly in front of him, her well-endowed breasts jiggling two inches from his face.

“What. In. All. The. Nine…” Loki scooted back, completely flustered.

“I told you I could snap him out of it! Dare completed,” Amora said, giggling as she tucked herself back into her dress.

“Feel free to snap me out of it anytime, Enchantress,” Harry Osborn cooed, reaching into her cleavage for her right hand to lewdly kiss the back of her palm.  

“I’m not in your league, Goblin,” Amora said as she lifted a goblet of the fizzy green Asgardian Ale from a passing Doombot in a white velvet outfit trimmed in light blue. “Anyway, it’s my turn now. Magneto - truth or dare?”

Erik smirked at her knowingly. “There is a reason I wear that helmet, you know.” His eyes slid to Loki’s for a moment before resting on the other sorcerer. “Dare.”

The Enchantress puffed up her chest, her boobs perky and high, and bounced purposefully in the mutant’s direction. “Alright, I dare you to chose someone here - in this very circle - to find a room with and play seven minutes of heaven!” She sounded ecstatic, though Loki didn’t know why - a game called seven minutes in heaven sounded infinitely boring. He’d spent millennia is a place some humans called heaven, he had no idea how a room in Latveria was supposed to replicate the majesty of Asgard.

“I choose Loki,” Erik said, his rich baritone registering as he gently stood up and walked over to Doom for a quick conversation. Amora choked on her fizzy drink.

Loki looked around the shocked faces of the group around them, “I know most of you are friends with Magneto, but would any of you care to explain the rules of the game.”

Mystique burst out laughing, her scales turning a vibrant shade of electric blue for a second before settling down.

Loki raised his eyebrow. “Did I say something amusing?” Mystique’s youthful body started to age rapidly right before their eyes. Her blue scales molted off as she screamed in terror and tried to shift. Loki chuckled under his breath. “Not so funny now.”

Loki didn’t get to finish his sentence before Erik’s hand was at his shoulder and he was gesturing him to follow. When he got up Loki released the spell and Mystique slowly changed back to normal. _Shows her right,_ he thought. No one laughs at Loki, God of Mayhem and Mischief, and gets away with it.

 _Don’t worry darling_ , the White Queen’s voice gently purred in his head, _they are all just jealous. Don’t worry about winning, just have fun._

 _Doing what?_ He responded back, sourly.

 _Oh, don’t worry, kitten, you’ll find out._ And just like that, her presence was gone.  Erik was leading him through the castle, away from the party, and towards the guest quarters.

“Why are we leaving the party?” Loki asked exasperatedly as Erik ushered him into a room. “What have you gotten us in to?” Erik made his move, kissing Loki up against the door like they weren’t mid-conversation, hand sliding up the side of Loki’s neck, fingers curling into perfectly disarrayed hair.  Loki’s reaction was immediate, lips parting for Erik’s tongue, hands pulling Erik in by the front of his wine-red coat before sliding back and down to Erik’s ass, spreading heat over every inch along the way.  Loki had met this hunger before, remembered it from long, long nights long, long ago when he’d tumbled with Erik across beds for a fortnight and fucked Erik’s demanding body until the passion burned itself out and all that remained were polite smiles and pointy words.

Loki started doing exactly what he had wanted to do the moment he saw Magneto again. He removed that damned coat, accidentally brushing Magneto’s fly and groaned. His dick had been shocked into full arousal by the demanding hunger in Erik’s kiss and the insistent greed in Erik’s hands.  He hadn’t been with Erik like this in a long time, but his body remembered.  

Loki chuckled into the kiss, finally putting the pieces together. “So, this is supposed to be what you mortals think of as heaven. These carnal pleasures?” He licked along the line of Erik’s jaw, nipping to punctuate his point, smiling into the bite. “Do you really plan to leave this room after only seven minutes?”

“I plan to leave once I am satisfied,” Magneto said roughly, falling back to the thick carpet covering the floor and taking Loki with him. They landed roughly but not caring, instantly naked thanks to Loki’s magic, and kissing furiously.  Loki eagerly felt over Erik’s naked torso, taking the measure of Erik’s shoulders, stroking the long arch of Erik’s spine, caressing smooth skin and marking tan flesh. A beautiful bloom of bruises formed at center of Erik’s collarbone and Loki took a minute to admire his work. That is, until Erik’s body twisted, forcing Loki under him and making Loki groan. There was an appealing strength in Erik’s aggression, in the way he was pinning Loki down **,** in the demanding grip of his hands - they called to Loki.

Erik made that primal, back-of-the-throat moaning sound he lived for, dragging Loki impossibly closer.  When Loki reached his hand between their bodies and closed his fist around Erik’s dick he groaned into Erik’s mouth, blind from the pressure of it.  Loki’s hand was slick, coated from the pre-cum dripping from Erik’s cock.

“Fuck, I’m too close.” Magneto’s hands gripped his and with painful effort moved Loki’s grasp from his cock, placing Loki’s hands over his head. They breathed heavily together in the cold air, catching their breath. “Hey, you think you can arrange something a little more --” A bed, covered in black wolf fur and a large decorative metal headboard, was suddenly under them. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” the Trickster said, smiling. “If I remember correctly, there is a lot more to come to be thankful about.” Loki whispered a Norse word and touched Erik’s hand. Loki could feel Erik’s hand filling with slick and oil. Erik took it from him, used it on him, slicked him with it quickly because this wasn’t the time for procrastination.  Then Erik was pushing in, natural aggression taking over; he dragged Loki into place on his dick, fucking in fast and forceful. Loki’s manicured nails dug into the base of Magneto’s spine, his cock hard and thick between their bodies. Blunt nails slipped in the sweat on his back as Erik traced the planes of his muscles. Erik’s fingers traveled a path up Loki’s back and over his arms, placing them once again at the head of the bed. Magneto smiled and the metal grate of the headboard twisted in air and formed cuff’s around Loki’s wrists.

Erik looked down at him, his fingers circling the cuffs, feeling the metal against Loki’s sensitive skin. Loki shivered at the ministrations. “It’s not the crop,” Erik said, his eyes shining darkly, “but seeing my metal on you…” The cuffs tightened around his wrists momentarily, possessively. “I like it.”  

From then on, Erik took over, going back in for more of Loki’s mouth, taking Loki’s dick into his hand in a twisting, pumping grip.  The sound he was making, the overstimulated moan, vibrated pleasure throughout his body, and Erik groaned, feeding off of Loki’s passionate energy, so close to orgasm he could feel the first beats of it rippling through his body.  

With a deep groan, Erik gripped Loki’s hips, pulling him back, thrusting in farther.  Shifting for better balance, Loki slid his knees farther apart, lowering himself slightly.  The sight of it, Loki’s tight ass and strong thighs, a glistening sheen of sweat on his naked back, long dark hair spilling over one shoulder as he moaned and tossed his head - - groaning, Erik moved faster, hips snapping as one hand slid hungrily up the arch of Loki’s spine.

Just when Loki could feel his body driving towards orgasm, Erik pushed him up against the headboard, seating him on his lap, his hands trapped behind him.  Erik rocked up against him with crude force, groaning at the way Erik kneaded his ass and gripped his waist and fucked Loki’s cock against his stomach.  The hard ridge of Loki’s erection and the impassioned fury of their kiss and the rough impossibly covetous grasp of Erik’s hands pushed all of Loki’s buttons, and before he knew it, he was howling and cursing, feeling powerful spasms wrack his body.  He was barely finished when Erik stiffened under him and made a sudden, low, primal noise, shooting hot cum into his sated body.

Loki draped himself as best he could without his hands over the broad expanse of Erik’s body. After a minute, Magneto reached up and uncuffed him, putting the metal gate  back as they had found it. Erik shifted them lightly down on the bed and rubbed Loki’s wrists as he growled with warm satisfaction.

 

\+ + +

 

A white winter sunrise streamed through the windows. Loki woke up first and debated leaving Magneto to find the bed empty and cold, but as he shifted in bed he found one long, hard reason not to make such a rash exit. His hands crept up Erik’s wide barrel chest, tracing his pecs with a knowing hand. Loki leaned down, kissing the Master of Magnetism awake. Stirring, Erik deepened the kiss, his hands finally finding their way to more _interesting_ places, until they heard the empty echo signaling a knock at the door.

Exasperated, Erik separated himself from Loki, opening the door to find one of Doom’s machines. They ordered breakfast from the Doombot in black velvet and red trim (really, which holiday was that supposed to be for?).  They had breakfast, and they talked, and everything was suddenly very _nice_ and _civilized_.

It was driving Loki mad. He tried to handle everything discreetly, remain calm and not overreact.  But he wanted Erik. He could still taste Erik on his lips and he wanted it again. Not being with Erik when he was right in front of him was agony. Loki wasn’t going to waste this chance to be inside him in order to drink Doom’s coffee. Sex with Erik was uncomplicated, rough, passionate and not even remotely civilized.

Loki made breakfast disappear with a wave of his hand. Enough was enough. He maneuvered Erik on the bed, stripping him easily and laying him bare.  He loved the warmth of Erik’s skin tone in comparison to his own, the obvious strength in Erik’s body, the instinctive roll of Erik’s hips. He wondered where he had learned it, who he had practiced it on first - perhaps his psychic friend in New York.

Loki had years on Erik, millennia, and he had taken care to learn a few tricks as well.  Arousing Erik in new ways was becoming a delicious challenge. Driving Erik to new heights and triggering orgasm in just the right way at just the right moment was an immense pleasure in and of itself.  This morning, he just used his hands, his mouth, and his extensive knowledge of Erik’s body. He brought Erik to climax quickly, then backed up and took a more scenic route, slowly building the tension, slowly driving him mad.

By the time Erik was breathlessly begging, clawing at him, and couldn’t speak without moaning, he figured that he’d drawn it out long enough.  Licking sweat from Erik’s abs, he gently pushed his finger back into Erik’s hot, tightly clenching ass, his own dick pulsing at the sound of Erik’s furious groaning.  Leaning over Erik, hovering close but not making any more body contact, Loki whispered in Erik’s ear as he stroked Erik’s prostate.  He had always been told he had a wicked tongue. While Erik gripped his shoulders and writhed desperately beneath him, he used his most twisted words and the sexiest voice in his arsenal as he caressed Erik from the inside.

Bucking, clawing, sweating, crying out, Erik came, shuddering violently, calling his name.

Still shivering, breathing heavily, Erik kissed him, latching onto his mouth, tugging open his fly.

“Are you sure you are up for it, Magneto?” Loki asked. He was extremely hard, but he couldn’t resist a taunt.  “Do you want me?” Loki smirked, helping Erik by pushing his leather pants over his hips. “Do you want to fuck me?” Loki’s eyes twinkled as he lay down on the bed, his dick hard and leaking.

“Yes.”  Erik answered back roughly, as if no words could communicate how much.  Although maybe the way his dick was turning a delicious shade of purple was a good clue. Erik’s kiss was passionate and claiming, and it left Loki without two brain cells to rub together.  “I am definitely up for it.”

Loki stretched out his arm, his palm up, his hand momentarily glowing a bright emerald. The next moment, seemingly out of thin air, Loki’s hand held a green, black, and purple riding crop. He smirked at Erik, holding it out for him. “Ready for round two?”

The metal behind Loki screeched to life as Magneto took the crop.

 

+++

 

FIN

  
  
  


                  

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh you guys I can't believe I posted this. I hope you loved it, lovely.


End file.
